Rosalie Gray and the Man in the Mirror
by Isolabella Storm
Summary: Rosalie Gray was the girl who lived, but nobody wanted that. It seemed every witch and wizard on the planet hater her with the same intensity they once hated her parents, Edwin and Bella Gray, the two most evil wizards since the Dark Lord himself.
1. The Girl Who Lives

Minerva looked in the sleeping face of the small child in her arms. For a week she'd taken care of this child, going from home to home, begging anyone to take her, but all refused, and now here she was in front of the only option left. They had wanted to exhaust all options before coming here. The ministry knew that Logan Gray hardly wanted anything to do with the wizarding world. Leaving her here would be like cutting her off from the life that she needed to be a stable witch. She couldn't help but feel just a bit like Dumbledore on the day that they left Harry at Number Four Pivot Drive. Then it had been necessary, but it most certainly not necessary with her, despite her parents and her past. Minerva knew better than to judge the poor girl for her lineage.

She had reached the house that she as meant to drop the child in, and sighed. Now was time for the act. She had to pretend that even she hated the child in order to guilt the man behind the door to number seven-twenty-four Elder Lane into taking the child she knew he didn't want. It was a shame really, the poor girl reminded her so much of a boy with a lightning bolt scar, the black hair and green eyes only adding to the resemblance.

Minerva made her way up the steps and knocked curtly on the door, silently apologizing for the fate that she was about to sentence the little girl in her arms to.

Mr. Logan Gray of number seven-twenty-four Elder Lane had long since given up on the wizarding community to pursue a normal, muggle life with his wife, Alice Gray. They were extraordinarily proud of their little three bedroom home, with their little girl Amy. They were proud knowing that the neighbors though them absolutely average except in the way of Mrs. Gray's cooking.

Mrs. Gray stayed home with Amy while Mr. Gray went to work in his law practice day in and day out, bringing home the money his family needed to live luxuriously in their nice well kept home, and to give his darling daughter Amy everything she'd ever need. There was never a sweeter child than his dear Amy.

It was his newfound normalcy in the muggle world that made the wizard knocking at his door so surprising. He'd denounced the wizarding world long ago, and the ever familiar robes were unsettling. Standing before him was a witch in deep green robes that brushed the step leading u to his house. She stood there immobile staring at him blankly as if he had been the one knocking on her door. There was a disinterested, and slightly disgusted, look gracing the old wrinkled features of the gray haired woman. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her mouth was a pale, tight line. Her large had was slightly bent in the top the way his mothers hat would often look after traveling.

"Mr. Logan Gray?" She asked uninterestedly, an aura of ominousness about the woman that put Logan on edge, but he tried not to show weakness to the vile witch. Her eyes never wavered in their hard, unblinking, cold stare as she stared into his eyes, like she wasn't even seeing.

"You're brother and sister-in-law were killed one week ago, and we have no one left to give the child to for permanent care. Knowing the nature of her parents we fear that putting her in the care of anyone who isn't a blood relative would be fatal to her." She said the words as if she hadn't just told him his only brother was dead and that he was now being entrusted with the care of his orphaned niece. How could he say no? Had his mother still been alive she would've been ashamed of him for saying anything different, but he didn't want the child of his evil brother and sister-in-law. Suppose it grew up to be just as evil as they were. It was born to the two most evil beings since the Dark Lord himself, how else could it possibly turn out, evil was in it's blood.

He said nothing as the child was roughly shoved into his hands. "There is no choice in the matter Mr. Gray, you are the only family she has. With any luck she'll end up a squib, but it is unlikely with parents as powerful as hers were." The child in his arms began to wail in irritation at the sudden jostling it got when it was handed over to it's uncle and Logan groaned in frustration.

"Fine, I'll take the child," he said. The woman gave no indication of having heard him and left without a word.

"Wizards," he grumbled. Born a squib, Logan always just assumed the muggle world was where he belonged, and after being immersed in it for several years he saw no need for magic and had begun to frown upon the very community that had raised him.

He slammed the door and his wife was standing right behind him.

"I don't want it." She hissed at him, holding their infant in her arms.

"And you think I do, but I can't let it just die, it's still my brother's child. Wouldn't you want someone to do the same thing for little Amy?" he asked. "We can give her a evil-free home, maybe it won't be... like them."

"It better not be, I don't want magic in my house Logan."

"And there won't be any, at least not anytime soon, and if she does develop magical abilities we put her in a home, she should be able to take care of herself by then, but for now we have to keep her." He shrugged, but the calm exterior he displayed was nothing like his interior. He was angry that his brother had been stupid enough to get himself killed and left his child as his responsibility. It was just like his selfish brother to do something like that.

He looked down at the slowly settling child in his arms. His green eyes were like that of his brother, her raven hair mimicking his sister-in-law's. The child was actually quite cute, but knowing that it would end up like it's parents if it ever developed magical powers completely eliminated any possible cuteness from his mind. He'd never see the settled thing in his arms as anything other than a walking nightmare in the making.

The small child laughed and reached for his tie which he hadn't removed after he got back from the firm and grasped it between it's grubby fingers.

Logan drew the tie from her grasp and went to find a place to set her down grudgingly, wondering what on earth he was meant to do with the little atrocity.


	2. Kicked Out

Singing. Her mothers singing. She can hear it like an echo from somewhere far away, soft and lilting.

Green light. Just like every night she hears the singing and sees the green light, a lightning bolt coming straight at her face.

The green light was pleasantly entertaining until she realized that it was meant to hurt her. She didn't even have time to scream before the light vanished just as one of it's bright green tendrils came within licking distance of her face. She was so confused. Where was her mother who had just been singing to her. Where was her father who always stood beside her while she did so. There was a flash of green light and she looked soon enough to see her father falling to the floor and a black cloak swirling around a faceless figure.

She awoke with a start drenched in sweat, just like she had every night since she was told that her Aunt and Uncle were not truly her mother and father, as she had believed for years previously. At eleven she had learned to control the screaming because Aunt and Uncle Gray's room was right above her little mudroom bedroom and they got angry when her nightmares caused her to scream.

The nightmare was always the same, always with the green flashes that were from indeterminate sources her falling father the indefinable figure. There was never a reason for the things that happened, and even after four years of the same recurring nightmare she had no idea what she was seeing every night as she wallowed in unconsciousness. She remembered words, words that weren't in English, words that don't make any more sense than the dream itself, she knew there were words, and every time she awoke she tried to remember them to no avail. The un-recallable words were the only sound in the dream besides her mothers singing. There are no footsteps or cries not even a thud as her father's body fell. It was just the words and the singing.

She never knew her mother, or her father. She only knew on instinct that the people in her dream were her parents. She never really saw their faces, it was just the subconscious knowledge that the people were her family. She knew that her hair looked exactly like her mothers, a deep raven shade of black, and her green eyes were exactly like her father's and her grandfathers. She'd never met her grandfather on her fathers side, even though he was Uncle Gray's father as well. It was as if Uncle Gray wanted nothing to do with him. The mere mention of Grandpa Gray was upsetting to Logan, though she never knew why. She only knew that if she wanted supper she'd never bring him up.

She looked over at the glowing read numbers on her dresser clock. 2:16 it mocked her. Wonderful. She had to be up early to help put up decorations for Amy's party while she still slept, and she had only managed to fall asleep two hours ago. She had to be up in another four hours with Aunt and Uncle Gray, and they wouldn't care that she'd been awoken by yet another nightmare. They'd tell her that she was just a silly girl with a silly fear and that she was lying to get out of working. She laid back down and closed her eyes the green flashes were still there, behind her eyelids, like an after burn, even though she was still in only darkness.

She couldn't sleep, which wasn't abnormal for her, so she decided to let her mind wander until tiredness retook her. She though of her up coming twelfth birthday. It was in three months, but that didn't matter, she always thought of her birthday, like it would allow her some sort of escape, though it as unlikely. She wondered if her parents were nice before they died. Her Uncle always said her parents were evil, but she'd long since learned that her uncle was prone to exaggeration, the fact was obvious simply in the way that he praised his daughter, Amy, in front of his friends when they had company. She wasn't supposed to be in the house when they had company. She was meant to go across the yard to Mr. Avery's house, but usually she would stake out in the cupboard beneath the stairs and listen to them speak, sometimes she even imagined that it was her own father praising her the way her Uncle praised Amy.

She liked Mr. Avery though. Sometimes when she couldn't sleep she'd sneak out of the little mudroom, that was adorned with only the cot that she slept in and a few sets of clothes beneath it, and make her way to Mr. Avery's house, where she was always welcome. Mr. Avery was the only bright spot in her otherwise torturous life. He had a dog named Belle that he took with him everywhere, and when Mr. Avery went somewhere he couldn't take her it was Rosalie's job to take care of her. She would hop the fence and crawl in through the "dog door" that was big enough for a little girl to fit through and always unlocked. She would sit in his kitchen and play with Belle until she was too tired to continue and found herself somehow back in her cot without moving. She never questioned it, just assumed that she was too tired to remember.

Right now she was debating going over to Mr. Avery's. She got up quietly so as not to make the cot squeak and peaked out the little window beside the door. The night was still and quiet, the only illumination a solitary street lamp on the sidewalk in front of the house. She carefully undid the lock, deciding to deal with the consequences if she didn't sleep, and made her way across the yard hopping the little fence and crawling in through the little dog door. Belle was up and making her way towards Rosalie before she was even half way through the door. The big black dog nuzzled Rosalie's neck and Rosalie giggled quietly.

"Hey there, Bellie. Have you been a good doggy for Mr. Avery?" The dog licked her face and Rosalie fight down a giggle. She didn't want to wake Mr. Avery, though he'd said more than once he wouldn't mind, she was a guest in his house, and she would act as such.

"You won't believe it, but Uncle Logan and Aunt Alice are making me get up in less than four hours to help them decorate for spoiled Amy's stupid party, and I'm not even going to be allowed to go, not that I would want to go to her stupid party anyway. I'm going to be shut up in the mudroom for eternity, aren't I Bellie?" She sighed and Belle licked Rosalie's face again, giving a little whine.

"I know, Bellie, I know, it upsets you when I'm like this, but I'm starting to think that there's no escaping. Where will I go? If I run away they'll either bring me back or I'll die." She sighed and laid her head on Bell's Bellie and ran her fingers through her thick black pelt. Belle cuddled herself around Rosalie and before she knew it Rosalie was slipping under the surface of a dream world. 

* * *

Rosalie groaned as heard her Aunt Alice yelling at her from the kitchen. She glanced at her clock. 6:02. She groaned and before she was even out of her cot she felt confusion fall over her. Hadn't she fallen asleep in Mr. Avery's kitchen? She shrugged it off and grabbed a new set of clothes from beneath her cot and went to brush her teeth in the little water closet and change.

"There's no time for that! I said we would start working at six. If you wanted to take care of all of that then you should've gotten up earlier, now come wrap these!" Alice yelled at Rosalie as she attempted to go to the water closet.

Rosalie took a deep irritated breath and threw her things onto the bed before going out to help her Aunt Alice with whatever ridiculous chore she had in store for her. 

* * *

"Clean the floor properly you stupid witch! Scrub harder! I don't want my Amy to be embarrassed by dirty floors!" She was on her hands and knees with a brush and a bucket scrubbing the grout between the tiles. Talk about a Cinderella moment. She sighed and continued to scrub despite the pain in her knees. She'd been perched like this on the time for a solid hour and had only done half the floor. She was only allowed to move on to another section whenever Alice was happy with her work.

"Don't you own a mop?" She grumbled under breath as she scrubbed at the tile. She glanced up at her Aunt Alice who was washing the dishes from the cake that she'd just put to bake. The water was running as she rinsed the bowl that had previously contained chocolate batter. Rosalie just glared at her Aunt as the water ran.

The tap began to shake and then, right before her eyes it exploded the faucet shooting up into the ceiling and sticking as the water sprayed heavily in the kitchen. She held back a laugh as the water shot straight at her Aunt's face. She sputtered and attempted to shield her face from the blast as she stumbled back She hit the table in the center of the kitchen and fell landing on her bum in the middle of the floor water still shooting up and hitting her right on her head.

"LOGAN!" She screamed from her spot as she tried to escape from the fountain, but the stream followed her no matter where she went until she left the room, then the water stopped.

Rosalie didn't hold back the laugh as the woman who had tormented her relentlessly for the past nine years finally got a taste off her own medicine. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Once before one of Aunt Alice's puddings had mysteriously fallen to the ground. Shattering the pretty glass serving bowl and splattering the contents all over the floor. She was beginning to think that these happenings were more than just coincidence. She'd done some research at school and was starting to believe he was a telekinetic. Tat was the only way she could explain the things that kept happening that made any sense.

Her Uncle Logan came storming in a look of utter discontent on his face, his ears pinking slightly at the tips.

"And what are you laughing at you little witch!" He yelled addressing her where she still knelt on the tile snickering. "You did this, didn't you?! Didn't you?!" He questioned. She looked at the now dripping spout where the faucet had once been and then back at her uncle.

"No, I couldn't have, I was all the way over here," she said innocently, but she had a feeling that she had done it.

"Don't get smart with me! Tomorrow after we say goodbye to all of Amy's house guests we are taking you to where ever people like you go and you are not to set foot back in this house! Is that clear?" He yelled at her.

Had she just been kicked out of her home?

"Fine! I didn't want to live here anyway!" She yelled at him before standing and dropping the brush on the floor and heading out the back door by her mudroom. Before she knew it she had hopped the fence and was knocking on Mr. Avery's back door. He answered almost immediately and she lost it. Before she knew it she was crying soft silent tears of a lost and broken eleven year old.

They weren't the kindest to her, but they were her family, the only family she had, and they had just disowned her.

Mr. Avery led her inside and Belle was immediately at her side, licking her hand and nudging her leg, whining the entire time. "Rosalie, dear, what's wrong?" Mr. Avery asked, puling out a chair for her at his kitchen table and putting a glass of water down in front of her that she wasn't aware he was holding.

She shook her head, closing her eyes. She needed to stop crying. Crying wasn't going to solve anything. She wiped her eyes an Mr. Avery knelt in front of her taking her shoulders in his hands and speaking softly. "Rosalie, what happened?" He asked her softly.

She opened her eyes and shook her head. "My Uncle kicked me out. He thinks I'm a freak." She whispered.

Mr. Avery frowned. "A freak, Rosalie, you are far from a freak."

"No I'm not, look." She concentrated hard on the glass of water channeling all her anger at her Aunt and Uncle to the glass and it shattered.

Mr. Avery laughed and Rosalie blushed. He must think she's a freak too. She bent her head and he picked up he chin. "Little Rosalie, I promise, you are far from a freak."


	3. Identified

Rosalie was surprised by the words of Mr. Avery. She had not expected him to be so understanding; nobody ever was. They always said she was no good; that she was useless and stupid and pathetic, and though she had tried not to listen, after all these years she'd started to let it sink in, but the look in Mr. Avery's eyes was not fearful or disgusted. Dare she say that there was pride in the eyes of the grown man kneeling before her.

"You can already channel it, do you realize how remarkable that is. You're going to be a great witch Rosalie, a great witch indeed. I knew it was only a matter of time before they shunned you from their home, so I welcome you with open arms into mine. A talent like yours shouldn't go unexpressed." HE stated determinedly.

Talent, he'd called it a talent. She'd always looked up to Mr. Avery, he was the only person who was ever legitimately kind to her and to have him help her in her time of need was greatly appreciated, but she couldn't help but be fearful. Bad things always happened when she was around, and she didn't want bad things to happen to Mr. Avery. She hung her head and shook it gently.

"I can't Mr. Avery," she whispered. "I just can't. I need to go where ever they were going to take me." There was crack in her voice. She didn't want to hurt Mr. Avery.

"Why not, Rosalie, they'll just bring you to me, you're not a freak Rosalie, look." She looked up in time to see him pull out a long stick. "It's a wand, I'm a wizard, Rosalie, and you're a witch. Once you've been trained you'll be able to do things like this." He waved the wand in the direction of the cupboards and they flew open and the dishes began to dance from their places and float in the air.

It was fantastic. Plates and bowls and silverware were all doing a sort of march around the kitchen. She giggled as a plate put itself over a bowl and a fork pretended to be the plates hand and tipped the bowl to her like a hat. She heard Mr. Avery give a chuckle of his own before the dishes soared back into their correct places.

"Mr. Avery, if I'm a witch why didn't anyone ever tell me?" She asked him examining the stick in his hand. It was pretty, a long black piece of wood with carvings into the bottom that were simple but elegant, and the wand came to a slight rounded point at the top.

"Why indeed, I'll contact the headmaster about that, you should've already been informed. You're long past eleven and school starts in a mere month. They really haven't told you yet." He looked quizzical, "They haven't sent you a letter, or told you anything?" He asked.

She didn't know what he was referring to, so she just shook her head no, looking at him quizzically.

He sighed and shook his head. "I was afraid of this, I'll call the Ministry in the morning." He stated determinedly.

"You don't have to trouble-" She started, but was cut off by Mr. Avery's shushing.

"Nonsense child, nonsense. I will not allow them to do this to you."

She felt a tightness in her chest at the kindness he was showing her. Nobody had ever been so kind as to offer her a place in their home. Uncle Gray had often told her that they had had to ask dozens of relatives to take her and all of them refused. She'd often wondered why she had had so much trouble finding a family when she was so young. Who would refuse to take care of an orphaned blood relative? She tried not to dwell on it.

"Thank you Mr. Avery." She whispered. "Thank you very much."

"Any time child anytime. Now come along, let me show you to your room." He smiled kindly and erected himself motioning for her to follow him. She stood and made her way up the stairs behind him, eyes bugging at all the strange sights before her. There were all sort of things going up the stairs. There were portraits that seemed to move, and as she examined them closely she realized that they were in fact moving. Her eyes graced each individual frame, first one that held a portrait of Mr. Avery, and a woman she didn't recognize, next a picture of the same woman by herself smiling into the camera her raven black hair and blue eyes seemed so... familiar.

"Mr. Avery, who is this?" she asked pointing to the woman in the picture she was smiling and laughing.

He turned and looked at her with sad eyes. "That's my late wife, come now, let me show you to your room."

The pain in his eyes made her regret that she had asked. She hadn't meant to bring up any painful memories. She vowed not to mention it again. She continued up the stairs and saw more pictures, of a little girl with blue eyes. The face was scrunched like it had been born recently, and it was so tiny. She couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl, but the pink blanket made her think it was a girl. She wanted to ask about this child as well, but she didn't for fear of bringing up more painful memories for Mr. Avery.

When they reached the top of the stairs he turned to the left, and pushed open the door. "This will be your room, the bathroom is across the hall," he indicated the other side of the hall. "That is my room." He said pointing down the hall to the right. There was one door at that end. It was a deep colored wood with intricate carvings that looked antique. She wanted to ask but was stopped by the sound of Mr. Avery walking into the room he'd called hers. He flipped on a light and she gasped. The little room was sparkly decorated, but elegant, and yet it looked like a room for a little girl. The soft, lavender walls and white curtains matched the bedspread which was of the exact same shades, the pillow case trimmed with lace. The small four poster was in the center of the wall opposite the door and the dresser was to the side. It was such a cute little room, and she doubted that it was really for her. She turned to face Mr. Avery, since she had made her way farther into the room and he was smiling at her, Belle at his side.

"You like it?" He asked, but in reality it seemed more like a statement. There was a smile permanently etched onto his slightly lined face, which made his graying brown hair seem less prominent, decreasing the age of his face.

"Yes, thank you." she smiled at him gratefully, still not sure how far she should let her hopes up. She was afraid that she'd wake up in an hour and it'd all be a dream, because that was the only place where good things ever happened to her.

"I'll take you shopping for muggle clothes in the morning, but for right now get some rest, I heard Alice yelling at you at six in the morning," he smiled wryly and turned to leave flicking the lights off in the process. "I'll come wake you in the morning."

The door shut and she was in total darkness, the only light shining dimly through the curtain. She didn't hesitate to pull back the blankets and slip off her shoes so she could crawl into the bed. She'd never slept in a bed this comfortable before and even with worry weighting heavily on her mind that all of this was a dream, she fell asleep easily due to her lack of sleep the night before.

Again the green light, so familiar, and the words, the same but different, even in the most exhausted of slumbers Rosalie saw the green light behind her eyelids and awoke yet again with the same nightmare. Thankfully she didn't scream. She was sure that Mr. Avery had heard her screaming in her sleep before, but she was hoping she could convince him that it had just been a stage a long time ago. She didn't want him to be upset with her because of her nightmares.

She glanced at the clock. 8 pm. It wasn't exactly early, but she'd slept for far to long. She got up and stretched, feeling better than she had in a long time. She'd never slept so well, aside from the nightmare she had no complaints. The bed was soft and didn't hurt her muscles the way a cot did. She slipped her shoes back on and looked for the lamp she remembered seeing on the side of the bed and fumbled around for the switch. When she found it she flipped it and a soft yellow glow filled the purple room. She noticed the bare walls around her and realized that these were her walls to do with as she pleased. She could put up band posters or pictures of celebrities the way Amy did, or things of her own. It didn't matter, because these were her walls, this was her room, at least it was until she awoke from this fabulous dream.

She opened the door slowly and went into the little bathroom across the hall. It wasn't big, it had a shower in the corner, and a toilet opposite the door and a sink beside it. It was just the right size, for a little girl and on the side of the wash basin she saw a brand new tooth brush, tooth paste, and several other amenities she assumed they were for her, but rather than chancing it she closed the door and went downstairs. She passed the littering of pictures in the stairway without giving it a second glance, trying not to stoke her curiosity.

She found Mr. Avery at the kitchen table writing a letter with an old fashioned quill pen and an ink well. She found it so strange that she didn't say anything as she entered to make him acknowledge her presence. Simply watched as he dipped the quill in the ink and scratched out he letters onto the paper. It wasn't paper though, as she examined it more closely, it seemed thicker than paper, which made sense since the ink would probably bleed through anything thin like regular paper. She was so busy watching his movements an thinking that she didn't notice when he stopped.

"It's parchment, it's more common in the wizarding world, which tends to be more primitive since they had no reason to develop the things muggles did while they had magic." Mr. Avery stated, startling her slightly. She hadn't realized that she'd zoned out. She blushed scarlet like she'd been caught doing something she ought not be. He smiled and motioned her forward.

"It's different from the pens that you're used to, you have to keep dipping the ink, and the paper, is much thicker than your paper. I'll show you how to write with it another day though, I must finish this letter to the Ministry," and with that he continued to scratch at the paper- parchment. She corrected herself. She was going to live in this world that he spoke of now, this world that seemed to be so much kinder to her than the one she lived in, and, if Mr. Avery was any example, then this world intermingled with her own, hiding where she least expected it.

She made a mental note about the word "muggle". He'd used it twice, but she had no idea what it meant, she would have to ask later, but for now she wanted to leave Mr. Avery to his writing, not wanting to disturb him.

As she made her way back up to her room she heard her stomach growl in hunger. She hadn't eaten since her measly dinner last night, and no it had been twenty four hours. She hadn't been allowed breakfast this morning, since she had "slept in" and even this morning she was hungry, now the feeling was enhanced tenfold. She refused to act on said hunger for fear of being reprimanded. Aunt Alice was often angry at her for asking for food, but she could hardly be blamed. They fed her so little that she was skin and bones, not that anyone really cared. Nobody but her parents had ever really cared, and they were dead.

She opened her bedroom door to find a tray in the middle of her bed adorned with sandwiches. There were more than any normal girl should've been able to eat, but after eating so little for so long she found that the few times that she was allowed to eat as much as she wanted she couldn't eat much more than she regularly would. She picked up one of the sandwich halves and peeled the crust off, eating it instinctively because that was usually what she got. She spit it out into a napkin upon realizing that she could eat the actual sandwich. She stared at it for a moment like it was a foreign object before biting into it. The flavors exploded in her mouth. She'd never eaten anything so good. She suppressed a little whimper at the delectable food.

There was a little note on the tray that she assumed was for her so she picked it up and put it closer to her face, her sight wasn't particularly good, but her Aunt and Uncle Gray never wanted to take the time out of their days to take her to get her eyes checked, and she was to young to do much of anything on her own.

_ We will get you fattened up soon enough, Rosalie, dear, and first thing tomorrow we'll take you to get glasses, I noticed you have been squinting lately._

_ Your Friend,_

_ Mr. Avery_

She smiled and folded up the note placing it in the top drawer of her nightstand as she continued to munch on the sandwich, pecking at it like a bird. Her first big bite had proved overwhelming, and while it was fun it really wasn't like her. She preferred tinier bites, probably in an effort to trick her brain into believing that she was eating more than she really was. The smaller bites made whatever she was eating last longer.

Nobody had ever noticed anything about her unless it was to criticize her. Nobody had noticed she needed glasses until someone had pointed out how unattractive her squinting was, and even then no one had ever done anything about it.

She wasn't even halfway through the sandwich half when she felt completely full. She could've eaten herself sick on the food in front of her, but as always, she ate like a bird.

Her craving was satisfied long before the plate was empty and she wondered what she should do with it. Would it be rude to take the tray half full back down to Mr. Avery, or would he understand? He was often understanding, but she didn't want to push her luck. She also didn't want to disturb him if he was still writing. She wanted him to be at peace if he needed to be. When she heard the claws scratching outside her door she jumped up to let Bellie in. She was wagging her tail at the door and panting happily padding her way into the room. Belle passed Rosalie and jumped onto the bed and gobbled up the sandwiches. IT didn't take a minute for the large black dog to lick the tray clean and then pick it up in her mouth and take it out of the room.

"Thank you, Belle." She said politely, and the dog barked happily around the metal tray before she padded down stairs with it. Rosalie stuck her head out of her door to follow the movement with her eyes until the dog disappeared from sight. She ducked back into her room and this time on the bed she found a book. She picked up the black bound leather book and held it in her hands. She opened the book to the first page and saw the title.

_A History of Magic: Bathilda Bagshot _

Rosalie opened the book and began flipping through it, the parchment thick and worn between her fingers, the book was obviously used, but it had little notes written in the margins. She flipped through each page with careful determinedness and read every page. By the time she looked up it was well past two in the morning, but she had finished the book. She now knew so much more than she once had, so many things made sense now. Muggle were non-magical beings, regular humans. She knew why the pictures moved, and knew what spells were and wands, potions, witches, wizards, magic...

It was so much information but it all seemed to fit in her mind and make sense to her. It just made everything fit together nicely.

She also had an idea of what the green light in her dreams was. It must've been her mother trying to protect her. That was the only logical explanation.

Her mother had died trying to protect her. Now she knew her parents weren't evil, though in her mind she'd always known her parents weren't what her Uncle made them out to be. They were kind and loving people, there was no other belief in her heart.

She'd never enjoyed a book so much, it had assured her completely of who she was. Her identity was confirmed. She was the daughter of a witch and a wizard, Bella and Edwin Gray. And she was Rosalie Gray, a witch.


	4. Diagon Alley

After finishing the book she was tired. She had slept all day but she was tired. Her eyes ached, so she set the book aside and slid out of the bed, padding barefoot into the bathroom across the hall. After taking her toilet she closed the door behind her and almost bumped into Mr. Avery.

"I was just coming up to check on you," he smiled walking back to her room and holding the door open for her, "Did you like the book?" he asked a knowing smile on his face lined face. There was a light in the aging man's eyes that seemed to see down into the depths, of her soul very soul.

"Yes, very much, thank you Mr. Avery," she picked the book up off the nightstand and reluctantly handed it to him. He took it and looked over the cover before handing it back to her.

"It's for you, Rosalie, you'll need it when you start school. Did you really finish it?" he asked her curiously. The raven headed girl simply nodded sheepishly and wrung her hands afraid of being called a freak. She had often been judged for her quick reading. She would get through a whole chapter in her book for class in minutes and then when her professor thought she hadn't read she'd answer every one of the professor's questions without hesitation, in detail and exactly correct. She didn't want Mr. Avery to shun her.

"Why... that's astounding!" He said, but there was no horror his voice. Again it was that note of pride that was so unfamiliar to her shunned existence.

She wanted to ask what was so different about him. She wanted to know why he was so nice to her when everyone else was so cruel. She wanted to know why others had never been so kind, but she was afraid that he would be offended of she asked, so she just kept her mouth shut. It was better she gave him as few reasons to snap at her.

She looked up at him, but the astounded sound of his voiced wasn't mirrored in his face. On his face was a look of pity, another emotion she was unused to receiving. Nobody ever pitied her, they just looked down on her, because she wasn't worth the effort.

Mr. Avery bent to look at her, so he was eye level, and the look of sadness on his face was mirrored in voice as he spoke softly to the broken girl. "I'm sorry that I didn't get you out of there sooner Rosalie, I regret that, but, whatever anyone tells you, you are not unimportant. You're special Rosalie, and you're worth paying attention to, don't let what they used to tell you make you feel any different. You're worth it Rosalie."

The little girl tried not to cry. Someone cared. Mr. Avery cared. Finally.

She couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around the middle-aged man's neck and he held her to him, comforting her in her never ending sorrow. Nothing would ever fix this girl, there was no way that she'd ever be whole again, but she was coming closer and closer every second.

Mr. Avery pulled back and brushed tears from the pale face of the raven headed girl. "I'm expecting a reply from the Headmistress soon, and if they refuse to accept you then I will be raising hell. The only thing that should matter is your ability, and I'll be damned if they judge you on anything else. In the mean time, I believe that we should make a trip to Diagon Alley very soon. Get a bit of rest and we'll have a fresh start in the morning, alright?"

She nodded, with not even a clue as to what Diagon Alley was, but perfectly happy to go there. The only places she went were school and occasionally the church the Gray's attended; neither places interested her.

She did as she was told and readied herself for bed.

She was awoken by a happy barking and a crash. She shot up only to see that a pitcher of orange juice had been knocked over from the nightstand by an overly zealous Belle.

"Oh, Belle, look at the mess that you've made!" She scorned the dog teasingly. The black dog jumped onto the bed and proceeded to lick her face. "Belle, you must get down." She giggled pushing the dog away, "I must clean this up." The dog finally backed away, but to her surprise, as she leaned over the bed to check if there was a spot where she could step without stickying her feet, she found the mess gone and the pitched standing aright on the floor beside the nightstand. She stared in amazement and attempted to figure out what had happened when Mr. Avery's thick laughter filled the room.

Rosalie beamed up at him knowing now that it must've been magic, and Belle barked happily wagging her tail and charging at Mr. Avery. She stopped and rubbed her head against his knees and he rubbed her behind her ears.

"Ready for a shopping venture?" He asked positively, and she nodded, not knowing what else to do. He smiled. "Right then, I've already got something for you to wear that is clean, so you can shower." He said, casually tossing her a dress. It landed on the bed in front of her and she crawled over to it taking the delicate fabric in her hands.

She'd never worn anything so nice, the dress was so pretty.

"Thank you Mr. Avery." She said timidly.

"No, thanks necessary, I'm happy to do it. Belle picked it out for you." He informed her, smiling mischievously, the way that he often did when saying such things. Rosalie thought it made him look rather like a child.

"Well Bellie, I must say your taste is impeccable." Rosalie said to the dog, before she was attacked by said animal and began laughing like a loon as Belle licked her face.

"Alright, well get dressed, and we can head out right after you have breakfast," He said, closing the door behind him. She hurried out of bed and across the hall to brush her teeth and the like, taking the dress in with her so that she could emerge ready to leave. The soft fabric of the dress swished across her skin lightly, tickling the back of her knees. She giggled as she turned around and around in front of the mirror. She actually looked nice, strangely. She even had ratty clothes for the church her uncle and aunt made her attend, this was just so nice.

After realizing how conceited she was being by staring at herself in the mirror she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Here she was acting no better than Amy, who only cared about how she looked, and spent forever choosing her outfits in the morning. Real beauty was not on the surface, she knew this from observing her cousin's disgusting soul. Real beauty was on the inside, and it was characteristic that very few people had as far as she was concerned. Anyone who would hate someone for no real reason had not a pretty inside, no matter how much time they spent in front of the mirror.

She hurried out of the bathroom and headed downstairs, slipping her shoes on on the way down. She didn't want to leave Mr. Avery waiting, she'd already spent too long upstairs, he'd probably be upset with her for taking so much time.

She got down stairs to find the dishes moving of their own accord as Mr. Avery read a newspaper at the table. He looked up and smiled at her, "Come on in, Rosalie, breakfast should be just about done. She took a seat in front of the place set across from Mr. Avery and watched in wonder as she was served by floating plates and utensils.

She watched with amazement while Mr. Avery watched her with amusement. "It amazes me sometimes," he began, startling Rosalie, "that you can be so fascinated by this. Most wizard children see this everyday, and find it completely ordinary, I've never seen such an amazed expression about something as simple as floating dishes." He smiled.

Floating dishes was simple? She'd read about things like transfiguration, and found the mere thought completely fascinating, but she couldn't believe that anyone would call this simple.

After a breakfast that was meant to be hearty, which again she was only able to pick at, Mr. Avery used his magic to clear the table and then showed her to his living room.

On top of his fireplace there was a strange looking stone bowl with legs which he took down and put near Rosalie. "It's -"

"Floo powder," she finished, remembering the silvery powder from her book. Mr. Avery smiled.

"Alright, little miss smarty pants, can you tell me how to use floo powder?"

"You throw it in the fire place, and then say where you want to go." She said, completely sure of herself.

Mr. Avery laughed, "Remarkable old girl, simply remarkable." He threw the powder into the pit. "Now in you go." He stepped in himself and spoke clearly, "Diagon Alley."

Before she knew it she was surrounded by smoke, and being pulled in a direction, then she came spilling out of the fireplace.

Before she could take in her surroundings she was pulled up and out of where they were standing.

"Come now, Rose, Hurry, please." Mr. Avery spoke urgently, pulling her along out of a store and down a street before ducking into a shop.

Her first thought was that it was a book shop, seeing at there were books everywhere, even stacks floating around. She looked up at Mr. Avery curiously, wondering why she'd been dragged away so quickly. "Come here," he said, leading her into a corner. He pulled out his wand and started muttering under his breath.

"Your hair is red now Rosalie, alright?" he asked her.

She looked at him quizzically, but nodded just the same. She couldn't imagine why he was changing her hair color, but if it was what he wanted to do then he could go ahead. She was on unstable ground at the moment, and was perfectly accepting of any orders that he may be giving her.

"Avery old man!" She heard someone yell from the other side of the store, "Haven't seen you in years, what are you doing here!"

Mr. Avery turned and faced the guest, who had addressed him so informally, hiding the little girl behind his pant legs.

"Just thought I'd stop in and see how my favorite potions master was doing, haven't been by in so long I got lost."

This didn't sound like Mr. Avery, his voice was different and it took her a second to realize what was happening, he was lying to the wrinkly old man standing in front of them.

"And who's this young little thing, you didn't go and get married now, did you Avery?" The old man asked with a chuckle. She was just peaking around Mr. Avery enough to make out the old man's features, but immediately took up a hiding spot when the old man leaned over to address her. "No need to be shy deary, I was your..." He paused and Mr. Avery supplied the word.

"Uncle." he stated.

"Ah, well I was your Uncle's potion master once upon a time, and yours too soon, I hope." She peeked around at the smiling old man, and saw he was now talking to her Uncle.

"No, actually, it looks like her mother wants to send her to Beauxbatons, that's where she went."

"And Able has nothing to say about it! He always wanted his children to go to Hogwarts," The wrinkled man said, astonished.

"Well, she's very persuasive." He chuckled, but it wasn't the carefree chuckle Mr. Avery usually gave, not this was... nervous. She'd never heard Mr. Avery nervous before.

"Ah, she must be. Well, I was just looking for the newest copy of- well you don't care do you?" The wrinkly man chuckled. "I shouldn't be keeping you, it was good seeing you again Avery."

"Yes, you too Professor Slughorn." Mr. Avery smiled at the old man waving him off.

"You were lying." She whispered as he lead her out of the store. "Quite a lot in fact."

"Shh, Rosie, dear, we don't want anyone to hear us, now come along, I think we can get you your wand, your robes, and a pet today, before we go back to the muggle world for clothes and such." She looked up at him in amazement. She was getting her own wand!

She walked happily beside Mr. Avery as she watched the people walk by, none of them dressed properly. They were all wearing extremely baggy bathrobes and big pointy hats. How Silly? She thought with a quick giggle.

"Now, Rosalie, this is how you'll be dressing very soon, so I wouldn't be so smug." Mr. Avery spoke out of the corner of his mouth to her, forcing her to redirect his attention at him. There was an amused glint in his eye at the pout on her face. She'd always hated hats, ever since Aunt Alice had shaved her head for not brushing her hair "properly", and she'd been forced to wear one until her hair grew back. Her hair still looked funny.

"Okay, maybe we can get you out of the hat, since your a muggle-born."

"Am I really?" she asked him. Had her parents not been wizards? She had thought he said that they had been, or maybe she'd just assumed.

"No, but you were raised by muggles, which may as well be the same thing, I was referencing knowledge not blood status. There are people who still care about all that nonsense, but I see it as just that, nonsense. A wizard is not made by his blood, but rather by his purpose." Mr. Avery stated with charisma she'd never seen the parallel to. He looked down at her and flushed slightly. "Sorry, off topic, it isn't my place to influence your political beliefs at such a young age.

Wizards even had politics, she knew that, she'd read all about the Ministry, they were in charge of everything, including making sure muggles didn't find out about wizards. She wanted to know everything, and she knew that there were things she didn't know, but she wasn't sure where to start, so she settled with observing.

"Alright, come on, let's duck into Olivander's and get you a wand." Mr. Avery said, moving across the walk to a shop that very clearly marked itself as Olivander's.

She walked in close behind Mr. Avery, afraid, for some unknown reason. Something just didn't sit right in her stomach. She just had this intense feeling that something bad was going to happen.

"Mr. Olivander!" Mr. Avery greeted the wrinkled man behind the counter with ease.

"Avery, twelve inches, dogwood, unicorn hair core, what a pleasure, and who is this little one?" he asked gesturing to Rosalie, who instantly hid behind Mr. Avery. She had a bad feeling about... something.

"This is my niece Rosie, and it's just about time for her first wand. Come on out Rosalie, there's no need to be shy, this is Mr. Olivander, he's going to help you get a wand." Mr. Avery stepped to the side, exposing the shy girl to the old man who stared at her curiously.

"Oddly familiar, Mr. Avery, oddly familiar." He said, but more like he was speaking to himself. She tried to hide again, but Mr. Avery knelt down taking her shoulders gently.

"Is something wrong Rosie?" he asked her, sparing glances at the old man who was still staring at her.

She shook her head vigorously, not wanting to upset Mr. Avery. He smiled and stood. "Alright then, let's get her fixed up." Mr. Avery clapped excitedly. Mr. Olivander stepped from around the desk and with a tape measure began to measure the girl, so many times that she lost count all sorts of measurements, that she had no idea how they would relate to a wand. Olivander nodded thoughtfully, putting away his tape measure and stepping behind his desk and then shuffled through his boxes peering at each label.

"Are you right or left handed?" He asked her as he hmmed, to himself, like he was thinking hard.

"Right," She stated firmly, trying to keep the shakiness out of her voice and doing a rather good job of it if she said so herself.

The old man nodded again and brought a wand out of a box, "Why don't you try this one dear? Ten inches, phoenix feather core, birch wood." He said, handing her a very short, simple looking piece of light wood. She took it gingerly in her hand and boxes started flying out of the wall. She jumped and thrust the wand back at the old man who just managed to dodge a beam of red light.

He chuckled like it was nothing new and took the wand from her. "It's quite alright darling, nothing to fear, here, try this one." He picked out another wand and handed it to her. "Dogwood, dragon heart string core, twelve and a half inches." He announced placing the wand in her outstretched hand. She closed her eyes awaiting another slew of boxes, but nothing happened. She now took the time to examine the wand, seeing as this one was behaving. The handle was a deep black while the rest was a light colored wood. There were delicate carvings along the length of the handle but the light shaded wood was smooth and shiny. It felt warm in her hand, right some how, and though there were a few sparks coming from the end, she wasn't startled by these. She had a feeling that these were good.

"I think we have a winner." Mr. Olivander announced. She looked up at the Mr. Avery whose eyes were shining brightly with pride.

"Your mother's wand was dragon heart string." He whispered, as if he wasn't thinking.

She tilted her head, examining him cautiously. He was behaving strangely.

The feeling of uneasiness was still rumbling around in the pit of her stomach, and even though she was trying to ignore it she couldn't. She watched as Mr. Avery handed the wrinkled man some gold coins and then turned back to her. "Alright, now let's see about some robes." He said, putting a hand on her back and led her back outside and into another shop marked _Madam Malkin's Robes for every occasion._ Rosalie held onto her wand like it were her most precious possession, which it was now. With it she'd eventually be able to do magic like Mr. Avery had done. She'd get to be a witch, like her mother.

She hadn't forgotten the words of Mr. Avery, and she was going to ask about her mother, now that she was sure he knew her. Who else but a personal friend would know the core of a wizards wand? And if he knew her mother maybe he knew her father too, but if that was so why had he never said anything? Her mind swam with questions as things happened around her that she wasn't truly aware of.

After purchasing three sets of black robes she was ushered again into a store. The store bustled with life, crowded, and everywhere you looked there were animals in cages. This snapped Rosalie out of her daze.

Her eyes immediately landed on a beautiful white owl, and she knew that she had to have it. It's wonderful yellow eyes stared at her, as if beckoning her closer.

"Found one have you?" Mr. Avery asked and she snapped her head up to look at him, blushing at being caught. She wasn't even sure if she was allowed to get the owl, it was probably expensive, as beautiful as it was, she couldn't keep letting Mr. Avery buy her things, it wasn't right. She wasn't his responsibility.

"Why don't you got talk to it, and I'll speak with the sales man." He smiled down at her.

She nodded and started to move to the cage across the room, but someone stopped in her path.

A white-blond headed boy blocked her path, glaring at her menacingly. "The owl is mine, Ginger. Stay away." And with that the boy spun and went over to the cage. Rosalie had always had a temper, and, while usually she could keep it in check, some people made it easier to flare than others, people like her Aunt and Uncle and this boy. She didn't even take a second to calm herself before she headed off after the boy.

He had already approached the cage and the owl was angrily screeching at him. He saw her approached and glared. "I said the owl was mine Ginger, now leave." He snarled at her. She knew that f they could change color her cool green eyes would be as fiery read as her hair was now. She still wasn't sure why her hair was red.

"Listen here Blondie, I don't know who you think you are, but obviously this creature has good taste in people and doesn't like you much, so why don't you step aside and see if he likes me any better?" She snarled right back at him. She was timid by nature, but feared when challenged. She let her eyes focus on his disgustingly gelled hair and pale gray eyes for only a second before turning to comfort the angry owl.

"There, there darling, did the mean old boy make you angry? He's not every nice, is he boy? Well, don't worry, you're coming home with me, not that nasty old boy." She cooed at it, and it immediately calmed. She stuck her finger in between the cage bars to pet the owls head with her crooked finger, but she was almost immediately reprimanded.

"Don't stick your fingers in the cage!" An old woman shrieked. There were so many old people here, she thought before she could stop herself, then blushed furiously, more embarrassed by her thought than the reprimand, she was often told to stop doing things by her Aunt and Uncle and it wasn't anything new to her.

Just then Mr. Avery approached her and picked up the cage, and he also had a bag hung on his over his elbow. "Alright, come along." Mr. Avery urged her, walking out the door and forcing her to follow him, but not before sticking her tongue out at the annoying blond boy whose eyes were flaming in anger at his defeat. Mr. Avery must've seen her, even though she was sure he wasn't looking, "Stop antagonizing the Malfoy's you're only going to get in trouble, they're bad news." Mr. Avery informed her.

She nodded, she'd probably disappointed Mr. Avery, and she hadn't meant to. It was her temper talking.

"Alright, I think we can hold off on everything else until you get your school list, don't you, so let's head home."

Rosalie nodded and followed him back to where they had entered the Alley.


	5. The Letter, the Truth and the Resolve

As they stumbled back into Mr. Avery's front room, Rosalie looked up at him, determined to get answers to the questions running around inside her head. She hadn't even been there a day, and already she'd learned so much, but all of that was general information, and none of it concerned the things she really wanted to know.

What happened to her parents?

Why had Mr. Avery changed her hair color?

Why had he insisted on calling her things other than Rosalie when speaking to others about her, and never once mention her last name, but instead, lied and said he was her Uncle, and speaking of false parents that want her to go to a school whose name she couldn't pronounce?

Why was Mr. Avery surrounding her with lies?

She looked up at him defiantly as he brushed himself off, avoiding her gaze, which she was sure he aware of.

"I know that you want answers Rosalie, but now just isn't the time, please, understand." He pleaded, as he took the few things they'd bought today and headed to the kitchen.

She followed suit, taking the owl with her. It was hooting happily as she set it down and she finally took the opportunity to stroke the devine creature. The feathers if the snowy white bird were enchanting, as if they were drawing her in somehow. She crooked her finger and used the back to gently feel the soft feathers. It shook it's head and cawwed at Mr. Avery before leaning it's head back into Rosalie's hand, begging to be petted again. "He's a good owl, why don't you try him out, there a little boy, he's about nine now, that could use a but of cheering up," he pushed a piece of paper across the table and then a quill and some ink. He's not feeling too well, send him a letter."

She cocked he head to the side. Was he serious? He wanted her to write a letter to someone she'd never met? That was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

"His name is Albus, just write him a letter, okay?" He asked. "Oh, and don't tell him your name."

Now she as really confused. She was supposed to write a letter to a complete stranger? That was insane all on it's own, but not even being able to tell the stranger her name. Was there something wrong with her name? Were people offended by it? Was it a taboo name in the wizard world? She had always thought her name was nice, so why had he refused to allow her to use it?

He pushed a quill and some parchment across the table to her, and rather than voicing her concerns, she immediately began to pen out a letter, in hoped of pleasing Mr. Avery and weaseling answers out of him when she was finished. Her scrawl like handwriting appauled her, but she wrote none the less, trying to make it as legible as possible. As she started the first line she had to think for a moment. What was she to call herself? She leant over and her hair fell around her shoulders, curtaining her, and hiding her from the world. It was no longer red, but instead the same raven shade that it normally was. Raven. That was what she could call herself, and it still started with an "r".

Dear Albus,

I can't tell you my name (though I'm not sure why) so for the moment I'll just call myself Raven. I'm an eleven year old girl about to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I'm very excited, but enough about me. I was told, by a little birdie, that you weren't feeling well. I know this may seem strange, but even though I don't know you I'm sorry to hear that, I hope that you will get better soon.

Truly and Always, Raven

She finished the letter and looked at it with curiosity, the at the owl still perched in it's cage, watching her with it's great yellow eyes.

"Mr. Avery, how does the owl know where to take it?" she asked him, pulling open the door to the cage and allowing the beautiful creature to stretch it's wondrous wings, she still needed to give him a name. He looked at her with his great yellow eyes, and she decided he needed a strong name, name worthy of such a strong owl, but it had to be something he'd like.

"Alright boy, what name do you want?" she asked the owl, who just continued to stare at her, tilting it's head in the process. "How about Prince?" The owl just kept staring at her. "King?" she offered, again a blank stare. "George?" More staring. "Richard?" The owl moved slight, jumping down from it's perch on the table before swooping up flying around her back, and landing right in front of her, staring at her with what now looked like curiosity. "Richard then?" she confirmed. The owl hooted and she smiled. "That settles it then, I'll call you Richard."

"He likes it because it's very human, not a pet name, no, that isn't what he wanted, he wanted a good strong human name." Mr. Avery chuckled from the door way that Rosalie hadn't been aware he was standing in.

"I finished my letter." she smiled tentatively, wondering when the best time to ask questions would be.

"Great, don't forget to tell him Richard's name." He reminded her.

She smiled and nodded, adding the note at the bottom of the letter.

P.S. This is my owl, Richard.

"Alright, now, fold it in three, and give it to him." She did as she was told and watched as Mr. Avery put it in an envelope and handed it back to her. She put Albus on the front and then held it out for the owl, not sure what it would do. The owl took it in his mouth and flew away in the direction of the front room. She followed it to find that the window was open. She giggled. She didn't know what, but having her own owl was just so exciting. She couldn't wait until she got some friends that she could send letters to. Now that she was away from the Grays she was sure that her life would turn around for the better. Surely now she'd have _one _friend, she'd already made an enemy, but a friend, someone she could talk to that was her own age. That was what she wanted. That was what she craved. That was what she needed.

"Alright," Mr. Avery chuckled. "that's enough of that, why don't we have some supper, and then I'll answer the questions I'm sure that you have." She nodded eagerly and followed him into the kitchen, eager to have her questions answered. She was already composing a list in her mind.

She watched Mr. Avery prepare dinner with magic, watching the motions of his wand intently. not wanting to miss a single learning opportunity. When they were done eating he watched as he used magic to move their plates and then watched intently waiting for some cue as to whether or not she could ask questions.

She watched as a teapot and two teacups placed themselves on the table.

"Alright, Rosalie, you have all night, ask away." Mr. Avery said pouring himself a cup of tea and mixing in some sugar.

"How did you know my mother?" She asked immediately, that being the foremost question on her mind.

He sighed. "Your mother and I were best friends in school, we were in the same year at Hogwarts."

She was hoping for a more detailed answer, but she'd take what she could get.

"Did you know my father?"

"Not well, he was a year above your mother and I, she met him during The Triwizard Tournament. Your father was the Champion for Durmstrang Institute, he took your mother to the Yule Ball, they fell madly in love, and were inseparable ever since. He graduated later that year, and moved closer to the schools that when she was allowed to go out to Hogsmeade she could Aparate and visit him, or sometimes she'd sneak down to the common room and use floo powder. Every day they sent letters to each other. They truly were in love." He sighed, seemingly ill at ease.

"What was she like? My mother?" She asked tentatively. She wasn't sure if she could keep asking questions, but she just had to know.

"She was very kind, always. I believe the only person she ever really tiffed with was a man by the name of Charlie Weasley, they tended to butt heads quite a bit, but other than that she was never even rude as far as I remember. She was very good at magic, as was your father, they were both very talented. Your mother also liked to read if I remembered correctly. Read anything she could get her hands on. I swore sometimes that she'd read the entire library." He chuckled, almost as if he was talking to himself. "There was a light that shone in her eyes when she spoke of a book that she particularly enjoyed, especially stories. Her favorites used to be the muggle ones. Things you'd be familiar with. I believe that she once went on for three hours straight about Cinderella to your father, he had cast Muffiliato while she wasn't paying attention, didn't hear a word. She complained about that to me for days." He chuckled, stirring his tea absentmindedly. "She really was something." He smiled into his cup and took a slow sip as he thought.

She tried to allow him to think, but another question was weighting on her mind.

"Why did you ask me to write to that boy?" She questioned. "Who is he?"

He chuckled again, wanly and stirred his tea bit more, not meeting her eyes. "To be honest, I don't quite know Rosalie, all I knew was that you needed to send a letter to him, so I spoke with his mother, formerly Ginny Weasley, now Potter, and she agreed to allow the exchanges. She thought, as I did, that it would be good for the two of you to have friends in the wizarding world, though she meant outside of his very large family, and I simply meant in general." "So you set me up?" she interrogated. He sighed, "I suppose you could say that."

"And how did you know this Ginny Weasley, and how do you know this Albus child isn't horrific like that Malfoy boy?" She asked, spitting out the word Malfoy like it burned her tongue.

"I know this, because I know his parents, and they wouldn't raise an, as you put it, "horrific" child."

She nodded her head considerately. "Have you met him?"

"I have never met anyone in that family other than Charlie, the boy's uncle, but they're decent people, and from what I've heard the older boy, who's about your age, is much too cocky. Albus is supposedly the sweeter of the two brothers."

Rosalie couldn't help but be suspicious, none of what he was telling her about why she was to send the letter added up, but this was Mr. Avery, he'd never lie, this must be a wizard trait, yes that was it, it's simply a characteristic of wizards to be so strange, it was still a foreign world to her after all, for her to be able to understand all their customs immediately would've been unthinkable.

She moved onto her next question. "In Diagon Alley, while we were talking to people, you lied, to that old wrinkly man, and then again to Mr. Olivander. Why?"

He sighed and stood to pour out his tea and pour himself a fresh cup. His must've gotten cold. She watched him pour himself another cup of tea as she awaited her answer.

After what felt like forever he finally answered her.

"Rosalie, the people who we met today in Diagon Alley, if they knew who you really were, they wouldn't be happy." He finally admitted after what appeared like a struggle.

"Why?" She was tired of his half answers, of him leaving things out that she wanted to know. She had a right to know things that were about her life!

"Rosalie, your parents, were only nice through their school years, shortly after their graduation they both turned to the dark side of magic. Edwin and Bella Gray were the most evil magical duo time has ever known. They terrorized the wizarding world for seven years before you were born, then they just dropped off the face of the earth until the day that the house you used to live in sort of, exploded." He finally got out uneasily.

"Exploded!" She asked bewildered. That didn't make sense! He was telling her that her parents were evil! They couldn't be evil, they were nice, he'd just said so himself! Rosalie's head was spinning, "How could my parents be evil?" She asked her voice breaking as tears started to stream down her face. Her heart was breaking right within her chest. She'd always held onto the thought that her parents were great righteous people before they died. That they were good and kind, and not evil!

"Alright, let me start from the beginning. What do you know about Lord Voldemort?" He sighed, like he'd really wanted to avoid this talk. Rosalie sniffled and tried to compose herself, she needed to hear this. She needed to know.

"Who's that?" she hadn't heard the name in her book, so he must be new, or little known. By now she had managed to stop the tears in favor of a more rational thought process. How evil could her parents had been if they had her, they must've had a soft spot to have a baby.

"Alright, well, a long time ago, there was an evil man named Lord Voldemort, and he had a group of followers called Death Eaters, and these Death Eaters were also very bad. Thankfully, a man named Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort, and all of the Death Eaters that were still alive went into hiding. Shortly after Voldemort's fall, not even a month in fact. There was a new evil duo roving London. They did truly evil things Rosalie, torturing and killing Muggles, and Muggle born wizards and anyone who challenged them. They didn't have any followers, not like Voldemort did, and the way that they did things, anyone would think that they had no agenda, they were just doing these things because they knew that they could.

"The Ministry tried everything that they could to bring them down, but they always seemed to be just out of reach. Seven years after the beginning of their evil reign they suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. We're fairly sure that that was about the time that you were born, or while Bella was pregnant really. Anyway, about a year and a half after you were born there was an explosion caused by magic in a home in a muggle neighbor hood. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement sent people immediately to try and keep things from getting to the muggles press, thinking the worst, and assuming that Bella and Edwin were up to their old tricks, but when they arrived they were shocked to see your parents lying on the floor, and you, in your crib. There was a singe mark on the wood that had just missed your little finger. You were still staring at the hole in the wall when they came in. They still don't know who did it."

Mr. Avery finished his story wanly, still stirring the cup of tea in his hands, he hadn't taken a single sip from it. Tears spilt down her eyes at the recount of her parents death. "What is a green light coming from a wand mean?" She asked him, trying not to sound too thick from the tears she was shedding.

Mr. Avery swallowed hard, though he'd put nothing in his mouth. The conversation had quickly become tense, even tenser than before. "That depends, where do you see this green light?"

"I dream about it." she whispered, "every night,"

Mr. Avery said nothing, "In the dream, there are three green lights. There's one coming for me, that my mum casts, then there are two that the man in a cloak casts." She gazed at him intently, willing him to look up at her. "My mother was trying to kill me, wasn't she?"

He shook his head, "No, that can't be right, it has to be something else."

Rosalie hit her fist on the table. He wasn't listening to her. "All the spells were the same. I can never remember the words but I know they were the same! My mum died before her curse could reach me though."

It's a depressing thing, realizing that your own mother had tried to kill you. Depressing indeed. The woman who gave her life, had also attempted to end it.

She was sniffling hard now as tears leaked down her face. "My own Mum tried to kill me..."

Mr. Avery was up in an instant, and she was sure that she'd made him angry, but rather than exiting he came around the table and knelt in front of her like he had before, gripping her shoulders, firmly but gently as she cried. She met his eyes right before the sobs started, and when she looked up at him his stormy gray eyes were clouded with tears of his own.

"Rosalie, I will never claim to know everything that happened about that night, but I assure you..." He sniffed, and none to lightly either, a tear finally breaking the barrier of his eyelid and sliding down his pale face, "I assure you that if your mother was actually trying to kill you, it was only because she was afraid that the man who killed them would hurt you. Rosalie, whoever did it had to have been a vengeful Death Eater, and I doubt that they would've allowed you to get off scot free. I don't know how, but somehow they managed to overlook you. Finding you alive in that house was the most remarkable discovery ever. We never expected you to be alive."

Mr. Avery hugged her and she clung to him, trying to let herself be convinced by his words, but she couldn't be. Her parents were evil and her mother had tried to kill her.

"Everyone hates me just for being alive don't they?" She asked as she hiccupped into Mr. Avery's shoulder.

He shuddered, "Unfortunately the community really is that ignorant." He pulled back and looked at her straight in the eyes. "They're scared of you Rosalie, they're scared of what you will do. Prove them wrong, show them that _you are good."_

She nodded her head whipping away her tears and hiccupping again.

Just then her owl came soaring into the kitchen and dropped a letter on the table.

"Do they know who I am?" She asked him, glancing at the letter that was surely a reply, it had been three hours if she was correct, since she had mailed the letter watched Mr. Avery make dinner, they ate, then they talked. Yes, that seemed like a suitable time if they weren't too far a fly from here.

"No, Rosalie, no one does, and that's how it has to stay, at least until you can protect yourself a little bit." She nodded, "But when I go to school, people will know..."

"I'll teach what I can here, anti-jinxs and such, anything I can to help, but I'm afraid that it won't be enough." There was fear in his voice as he knelt there contemplating.

"It'll be okay Mr. Avery, I know that it will." She assured him, even though she wasn't sure herself. A whole community of people who hated her for being alive, she was actually in danger just by existing.

He chuckled softly wiping away a tear of his own, "You're so like your mother in that respect, so positive."

"Mr. Avery." She whispered softly, not meeting his eyes.

"Yes?" he asked encouraging her.

"I- I just don't think that my parents would do those things. I know I never knew them, but who becomes evil for absolutely no reason. Maybe they were doing it because they had to..."

"And why would they have to Rosalie?"

"To protect people."

"People... like who?" He pressed.

"People like- like wizards and witches, their family... I don't know Mr. Avery!" She shouted confused by her own words. She hadn't thought before she spoke, but she knew it her heart what she was saying was true. "But no one becomes evil for no reason after being good their entire lives, that just doesn't make sense. There had to be a reason they did the things they did. Maybe they were doing someone with a blood status vendetta's dirty work in the exchange of the spared life of a loved one, or... or maybe... I read about this curse, that makes you do things whether you want to or not... maybe that was why, but I know they didn't do it just because they could. I just know it." She stated firmly. Eyes shining with resolve. She was eleven years old, and yet she was absolutely positive that she was going to be able to clear their names. She knew that they didn't do it because they wanted to. She just knew it, in heart of hearts, that her parents weren't evil. There was just no way.

She refused to believe it.


	6. Meeting a Weasley

With a deep, mind clearing sigh, she made her way to the table, where her owl was perched, and picked up the note that he had dropped right beside the teapot. She opened the sealed envelope and petted her owl in thanks with the back of her finger as she unfolded the letter and read it, preparing for the worst. She was never very good with social things, and she was afraid that he'd think she was odd.

Dear Raven,

My mum said to expect your letter, and thank you, I really have been feeling ill lately, but I think I'm getting over it. Since you told me about yourself it's only fair that I share the same information. I'm a nine year old boy, my real name is Albus (I'm curious as to why you can't tell me yours, but I won't ask), and I'll be starting Hogwarts two years after you do. My mum says that this is a bit strange, but strange is more fun than normal, isn't it?

Sincerely and Forever, Albus Potter

Rosalie smiled at the signature, it wasn't unlike her own, and then reread the letter. He was only nine, so young, almost too young to be her friend, but he was kind if his letter was anything to go by, and she smiled. She didn't know much about this Albus, but she knew that she liked him. When he finally go to Hogwarts she'd be sure to befriend him.

"Mr. Avery, can I write him another letter?" She asked him wondering if that was even appropriate.

"Of course, but it's late, wait until tomorrow, Richard needs sleep too you know." He chuckled, and ruffled her hair, misplacing the short curls that barely reached her shoulders since her Aunt had cut them all off.

"Alright, so in the morning?" She asked him eagerly.

He chuckled. "Yes, Rosalie, in the morning,"

She nodded and as she went up to bed she remembered something.

"Mr. Avery." She called from the third step.

"Yes?"

"Did my mother like to sing?"

"Yes, she liked to sing a lot. It was one of her favorite things to do besides magic."

She nodded, there was no doubt in her mind now, the woman singing in her dream was her mother. She still didn't believe that her mother had tried to kill her.

She headed back upstairs and washed, then settled in her bed. There was another book waiting for her when she got into her room so she picked it up and started to read. She was half way through when she yawned the first time. She decided that since she didn't know what was going on the next day, it was best that she bed early, so that was what she did. She saved her place in her book with her wand, which had been nestled in a convenient pocket in her dress until she had her shower, upon which time she'd placed it on her nightstand, and turned off the little lamp beside her bed before falling into a restful sleep.

For the first time in years she had refrained from having the nightmare for reason's other than being completely exhausted. That had never happened to her before. She always had the nightmare, but that night she just hadn't. She wondered if her newfound knowledge had anything to do with it, or maybe it was her newfound resolve.

Richard slept with his head tucked under the wings, and she smiled at how adorable he was perched in his cage. Mr. Avery had told her to leave the window open, and the cage, so that when he had rested he could fly around as he pleased. He had also told her to expect Richard to bring dead things back. That had scared her a bit, but she'd gotten over it. As she looked around the room now she saw nothing dead lurking in the corners, and she let out a sigh of relief.

She climbed out of bed and Richard stirred. "Hey Richard," She smiled at him, "How are you this morning?" He hooted and she giggled at her silly owl responding to her questions.

"I'll ask Mr. Avery if I'm supposed to feed you or just let you feed yourself," She told him, brushing her crooked finger along the side of his face and down his wing. "Right after I find something to wear, I really need some clothes. Even at the Gray's I had a couple sets."

She made her way to the bathroom to take care of her hygiene then back to her room, and to her surprise, she found another outfit waiting for her. Again a dress, that was much nicer than anything she'd worn before, and flowers all over were quite intriguing to her.

"The scarf and the sunglasses are to stay covered, I almost risked your life yesterday because I didn't think. keep the sunglasses on and the scarf over your head anytime you're in public. I know it seems like a lot of hassle, but it's for the best Rosalie." He assured her as she looked down at the objects laying on top of the dress. Ignoring the scarf and sunglasses she picked up the ring and examined it before turning to Mr. Avery. She was going to ask him if he'd dropped it on accident, but the way he was shaking his head kept her mouth shut.

"It's all your Rosalie, I didn't accidently drop anything." He smiled warmly. She nodded and slipped the ring onto her finger. It felt heavy, and was just a bit too big, but she'd never owned a piece of jewelry before, and she liked it. She smiled at it on her finger.

"Alright, get dressed, I'm going to take you into London to buy some muggle clothes, hopefully they'll still fit you come next summer, I've always hated shopping, sales clerks are ever so annoying." He stated, somewhat disgruntled, "Anyway, we're leaving as soon as you're done with breakfast." He informed her before Belle came crashing in and jumped up, putting her paws on Rosalie's chest and licking her face.

Rosalie giggled, and made no move to push the large dog off of her. "And did you choose this one as well, Belle?" She asked referring to the outfit she was about to adorn. Belle barked once and licked her face before jumping down onto the floor.

"Well, we'll leave you too it, breakfast will be ready as soon as you are." he smiled before heading out.

As she changed into the dress she couldn't help but think how nice this was of Mr. Avery. Nobody was ever nice to her for absolutely no reason, except Mr. Avery of course, he had always been there for her when she needed a place to hide from her own aunt and uncle. She always had a safe haven here, and now the haven was permanent, at least until she went to school. She was so excited to be among people just like her, even if it was possible that they would hate her.

Now that she thought about it, maybe she didn't want to go to Hogwarts. In either life she could choose people would hate her, but at least people wouldn't try to kill her if she stayed with muggles.

She shook her head. Surely people didn't blame her for her parents wrongdoings. This was all just Mr. Avery being cautious, she assured herself. Nobody would hurt her, she was sure of it.

She slipped into the dress and the sandals, which were perfectly acceptable in the newfound sun lighten days that brought warmth to the dreary suburb. She made her way downstairs slipping the scarf over her arm and holding the sunglasses in her hand. At some point Richard had decided to make his way to the kitchen and he was now happily munching upon whatever Mr. Avery had given him.

Upon setting her eyes on the owl she remembered the letter she had intended to write, and as did Mr. Avery apparently, seeing that sitting on the table before a clean set of flatware there was a quill and ink vial and a piece of parchment.

"Breakfast is ready, but, if you wish, you may write your letter before you eat." She nodded and sat at the place set for her, eager to begin writing. She wasn't sure why, perhaps it was just the thrill of having someone to write to. She wasn't sure, but she didn't care.

She dipped her quill and attempted to make her handwriting presentable.

Dear Albus,

To be completely honest with you, I'm not sure what I should write, but seeing as your the first person in my general age category ever to willingly speak with me without hating me for no reason I can't seem to let go of the contact, though I suppose this isn't speaking. Anyway, I suppose telling you a bit more about myself is an order, yes? I only found out that I was a witch a few days ago, before that I was living with my aunt and uncle on my fathers side, his only brother. I can't say that I was happy there, but now I'm happy, in my new home with my lovely owl. (I'm enclosing a treat for you to feed him, he really is such a splendid owl, or at least I think he is, he's the only owl that I've ever had contact with.)

My parents are dead, and I'm an only child, my eyes are green, my hair is black, and I like to read, I'm very good at it in fact. My classmates used to tease me because I read too fast, but that's because they were ignorant. Words are a gift you see, humans are the only beings capable of such marvelous complexities as words and languages, but so few people appreciate them. My cousin had her own mobile and she was on it constantly, and sometimes she'd leave it on the counter and I'd see the messages she sent her friends. They were absolute mockeries of English, she never spelt words out, or anywhere near correctly, she would say things like "u" and "y" and "wat" it was atrocious... and now I've wasted half a piece of parchment by being up on my soap box. Ah well, I suppose that tells you plenty about me doesn't it? And just make sure you reply I'd be devastated if you didn't. *Tortured Heroin Sigh*

Always and Truly, Raven

Rosalie very nearly wrote her own name, rather than her pen name, and was dearly afraid that Mr. Avery would reprimand her.

Though she was afraid of his reprimand, she knew that he was only doing this to keep her safe. He feared for her life, seeing as people can be so cruel, a fact she was aware of first hand, and she was glad that there was someone there to look out for her. She folded up the letter as Mr. Avery had instructed her to do with the last one, and looked up at him expectantly as he sipped his coffee, and read his newspaper.

He looked up as if sensing her gaze and smiled. "All done?"

She nodded and he took it from her. "I'll go seal it and put it in an envelope. Come Richard," He said, gesturing to the owl to follow him. Richard flew up from his perch on the sink and went to rest on Mr. Avery's shoulder. She giggled and both the man and the owl looked back, Richard quizzically and Mr. Avery with a grin spread across his face. He gave her a quick nod, then used the hand holding her letter to indicate the table. "Eat." He smiled.

She looked down to see the previously empty plate heaping with food. She sighed. She'd never be able to eat all this, and it would just go to waste. She hated to waste food. She knew what it was like to starve, and didn't like the idea of perfectly good food going into the garbage. None the less, she began to pick at her plate, eating a few things here and there. She ate about a fourth of the things on her plate, and then she couldn't eat anymore.

Mr. Avery was taking an awfully long time, and even Belle had yet to make an appearance. As strange as it was, she decided that she rather not dwell on the matter. She sat obediently at the table, not sure what to do now that she was finished, and waited for Mr. Avery.

She waited for five more minutes before she decided to go upstairs and get her book, then sit on the couch and await him. She was another forty pages in when she heard Mr. Avery's cheerful voice from the kitchen. "Rosalie, where have you gone?"

"Right here." She stated, springing up and popping her head into the kitchen.

"Ah, yes, well, it's about time we get going, yes?" He asked.

She nodded and followed him to his car. She was unsure about where to sit, seeing as she rarely rode in cars, and he smiled, gesturing for her to take the seat beside him as he slid in. She took the seat she was offered, and sat the book, that she'd just remembered she'd had, in her lap so she could buckle her seatbelt. She had forgotten to set it down. Well, there was no use in doing so no, she might as well read some more.

As Mr. Avery navigated the twisting turning roads into the city she read another thirty pages. When they entered the city she set down her book, eyes wide with excitement as she looked upon the structures before her. She'd never been in the city before, having never been allowed, and she didn't want to miss anything.

The Hustle and bustle of the city entranced her, along with the buildings, so ornate, so beautiful. The people walking along the walkways were so strange, some of them in business attire, others seemingly heading nowhere, wandering aimlessly. She couldn't help but think that each of these people had lives, had stories, tales to be told and skeletons in their closets. Everyone on that street had a life that somehow interacted with others, and if you really thought about it you could trace anyone back to anyone. Anyone of these people could know her aunt or uncle, may've once crossed paths with her neighbor, it was simply undeterminable the amount of possibilities that could eventually connect anyone of the people on that street to her.

As she looked out at the street she caught the eye of one passer by in particular. A gray eyed blond haired man, that wasn't unlike the boy that had upset her the day before in Diagon Alley. He gave Rosalie a cold glare, and Rosalie found that she couldn't look away from the angry eyes that were set upon her. Mr. Avery didn't even notice the man walking down the street, but she did. It wasn't until he was no longer visible that she turned back in her seat to look at the buildings, rather than the people, avoiding eye contact. She didn't like the glare of the gray eyed man with hair so pale it was nearly translucent. It made her uneasy, that ice cold glare, and she couldn't think of anything she'd done to deserve it.

They continued to drive, and soon Rosalie forgot all about the gray eyed man, only to have her thoughts consumed by another man with colored eyes.

Mr. Avery had just pulled into a large shopping complex when someone came up to the window. "Where are your glasses?" he asked her smiling at the man standing in the window. The blue eyes that were looking through the window at Mr. Avery and Rosalie were smiling and happy, she doubted that they would cause her harm.

None the less as she was instructed she pulled her scarf over her soft curls and slipped on the bright pink glasses with dark lenses.

They both exited the car and Mr. Avery greeted the man with red hair and blue eyes who was happy and smiling. "Avery, you've gotten so old." The red haired man laughed shaking hands with Mr. Avery and clapping him on the back like they were old friends. "And who's this, your wife?" joked the blue eyed man.

Rosalie scrutinized him, not sure if she should trust the joking form of the man in front of her. "Not one for jokes, is she?" The blue eyed man asked Mr. Avery.

"Not with strangers." Mr. Avery said, before turning to her. "Raven, this is Charlie, Charlie, this is my niece Raven."

"Good, to meet you Raven, I've heard absolutely nothing about you, but I've got a couple nephews around your age who I'm sure would like to hear everything." He grinned and gave her a wink. She cocked her head, to the side not quite understanding what he was trying to say.

"Charlie," Mr. Avery said sternly. The man called Charlie just looked hurt, well like he was feigning hurt.

"And what have I done now old man? It's the truth. The only ones who should be angry are my nephews, lord know how easily embarrassed children are." He laughed and then continued, "Why don't we get a bite and catch up? I haven't seen you in ages."

Mr. Avery gave Rosalie a quick glance and then nodded abruptly, "I don't see why not, we were going to do some shopping, but we have all day."

But they had just eaten... And she was under the impression that Mr. Avery wasn't exactly Charlie's biggest fan... Things were so strange, nothing was what it seemed. She followed in Mr. Avery's footsteps as they made their way to a café in the center, and sat where she was told, never removing her sunglasses or taking her eyes off the blue eyed man. He noticed her gaze, or so she assumed by the way he kept glancing at her uneasily.

Mr. Avery went to get the three of them something to nosh on and she was left alone with the blue eyed man. He leaned forward and spoke to her in a low voice. "I know who you are Rosalie," He stated kindly and softly. On instinct she stiffened and her eyes sought out Mr. Avery who was still at the counter, placing his orders. She felt around in the pocket of her dress for her wand. She knew no spells, but it was comforting to know that it was there. She returned her gaze to the blue eyed man, watching him watch her. She paid particular attention to his hand, his right hand, to make sure he didn't draw his wand, if he did so before Mr. Avery came back all hope was lost.

"There is no need to be suspicious. _Raven_, I was just letting you know that I'm one of the good guys, but that doesn't mean everyone will be." He tried to calm her. She tightened her grip on her wand and continued to examine him.

"You say you are a good guy, but are you really? Anyone can tell a lie." She narrowed her eyes, gauging his reaction.

"You're very right, but if I were a bad guy would Avery have left me alone with you?" He countered, raising an eyebrow at her expectantly.

"As I said, anyone can tell a lie." She scrutinized him. His eyebrows scrunched up and he looked at her calculatingly.

"My, my. You've been raised to be cautious, and any girl in your situation would want to be the same way, but you have to trust someone."

"I trust Mr. Avery." She said defiantly, tilting her chin up.

"But is that a wise choice?" he asked her. She was just about to rebuke him, but just then Mr. Avery arrived with cups and a paper bag.

"Alright, got everyone's favorites, Charlie I wasn't sure how you liked your coffee-"

"Black is fine," Charlie smiled handing Mr. Avery a couple of pounds. "How have you been old man?" He asked Mr. Avery.

"Honestly I can't complain, how are things in the dragon business." Mr. Avery asked stirring some powder into his coffee.

"Fiery, as usual."

There was an awkward silence and she watched the two men drink their coffees.

"Oh, Rosalie, I got you a hot chocolate and a biscuit." Mr. Avery said handing her the last drink in the brown tray and a paper wrapped object. She nodded in thanks and smiled, trying not to appear startled by the use of her proper name. She wasn't sure if he had slipped up, or if he trusted this Charlie person, but either way she was taking no chances. She picked up her hot chocolate and sipped it delicately, still full from breakfast, and nibbled on the biscuit. Watching the two men.

"Raven," Charlie said after several minutes of silence, she turned to him acknowledging his words, "have you been enjoying your stay with Avery so far?" He asked her.

"I never said she was staying with me." Mr. Avery cut in, before she could answer.

"Sorry, old man, I just assumed," He smiled, but it seemed forced, and there was now an uneasiness about him that made Rosalie wonder.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have, Raven, come along, I think we best begin shopping. It was good seeing you Charlie." He smiled like he wasn't cross with the man. The way Mr. Avery spoke, it seemed as if he was just in a hurry, and there was nothing wrong, but Rosalie knew that there was something wrong.

The only problem was that she wasn't sure if there was something wrong with Charlie, or Mr. Avery.

Mr. Avery lead her back to the car, much faster than they had gone to the café and before she knew it she was being shoved back in the car. She made to protest, but decided against it. Mr. Avery strapped her in and locked her door before closing it and going around to his own. He strapped himself in and drove off much faster than the limit allowed.

"So much for shopping," he muttered to himself. "I'm sorry, Rosalie, I just can't take ay chances with you, I'm just-" She took a deep breath as he drove out of London. "I'm just afraid for you, I haven't spoken to that man since we graduated, and I'm afraid that he knows something he shouldn't. I'm sorry I slipped up Rosalie, I realized too late that I'd called you Rosalie, and I was hoping that he didn't notice, but then he made that remark about you staying with me, which nobody but the headmistress of Hogwarts is supposed to be aware of, for your safety of course, and-" he took another deep breath. "I don't want them to take you from me Rosalie." The old man said, seeming tortured by the thought. She felt for him. Whatever it was about her that made him care obviously ran deep, and she felt the need to reassure him, but she had no idea how.

For the rest of the journey, rather than reading her book, she stared out the window and contemplated the words of the blue eyed man which still rang loud in her thought space.

_"Is that a wise choice?"_

**_*Quick Note*_**

**_Updates for this story will be weekly, on Sundays unless otherwise specified in my profile._**

**_Thanks for reading_**

**_-Isola_**


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